


A Good Day

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Married Life, and a little implied sexual cont at the end, pure fucking fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The county fair.</i> Yeah, even in her head, it sounded ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I have never written James Rogers before. But Saturday I went to my county fair (despite a delicious corndog and a giant cup of lemonade, I hated it; _way_ too many people and my feet hurt, but that's besides the point) and I got an idea--Natasha and Steve taking James to the fair. I've been wanting to write the Rogers-Romanoff family for a while now, but just didn't have a prompt suitable enough. Well, finally, I do. And I love James, the cutie. He's literally adorable in every fic I've ever read with him, but I think I just have a soft spot for the little guy (and domestic/parental Steve and Natasha, so sue me).

There were plenty of things Natasha hadn’t done since she’d defected from the KGB and joined up with SHIELD. The Red Room had restricted her from participating in many things that a child, and even a young woman, would normally have done. Before her defection, Natasha had never enjoyed a day at the beach (she’d been _to_ the beach, sure, but unless you counted assassinating a high-profile target in broad daylight while he was taking advantage of the waves as _going to the beach_ , then technically, she hadn’t). She’d never learned to ride a bike (from someone who wasn’t also instructing twenty-seven other girls, and for a purpose that was beyond simply being able to ride a bicycle). She’d never had a sleepover with other girls her own age (without handcuffs and rickety cots). On the other hand, there were also plenty of things she _had_ done. She’d kicked Clint’s ass at an all-nighter round of video games, even the first-person shooter ones. His argument when it came to the latter was that he saw better from a _distance_ , and sitting in front of a flat screen certainly didn’t count as such. She’d learned how to make lasagna just because she wanted to, and not because she needed to find a way to properly conceal poison in the sauce. She’d even done things she never thought she’d be able to. She’d married. Had a family. She’d watched Steve, her husband, teach their _son_ (yes, she still had trouble believing it sometimes) how to ride a bike. She even cleaned up the scrapes and scratches James had received on his knees and elbows from falling over a few times, sending Steve a glare despite the fact that they’d already realized James had inherited the serum because he had let her baby get hurt. She’d gone to the beach with them just because it was nice and sunny and they had quality time to spend together. And one night, she fell asleep tucked against Steve’s side during a movie, right after James had done the same across both of their laps. Out loud, these last few things sounded absolutely absurd to her. Before her defection, a family seemed out of the picture. Now it was just part of her everyday life, and she couldn’t be happier. Some things, though… some things still sounded completely silly. And no matter how many times she said them out loud…

 _The county fair_. Yeah, even in her head, it sounded ridiculous.

The fair was never something Natasha thought about. It wasn’t like she _hated_ the idea, nor did she love it. The thought about going just never crossed her mind. Clint was a former carnie, so back when he was still showing her the ropes of living normally (as normal as a secret agent could get, naturally) in modern America, he’d never taken her to the county fair. Of course, there were some distinct differences between the fair and a carnival, but she didn’t care enough about either (and she cared too _much_ about Clint and his personal qualms with his past life, because she could relate) to press the subject. That was years ago, and the prospect of going to the fair just for the experience was easily forgotten amidst other, seemingly more appealing activities, on top of missions and alien invasions and the resurfacing of Neo-Nazi organizations (well, okay, just _one_ ). But then she had gotten married. And then she’d had a child. More specifically, she had a _son_ , and one that just happened to _love_ animals, and of all sorts. He also loved to babble about them non-stop to his uncles, and when one of them—of course, it just had to be the one with an endless fortune—had offhandedly asked James if he’d ever been to the fair, it was all downhill from there. Chastising Steve and Natasha for “being terrible parents—no, scratch that, indecent human beings” (the death glare Natasha had sent him for his overkill nearly shut him up, _nearly_ ), Tony, in record speed, obtained three tickets to the upcoming county fair and hid behind an overly giddy James when he produced them to Steve and Natasha the next day. From an outside perspective, it was pretty easy to ask why the two Avengers simply hadn’t said no. But when your son had the puppy-dog eyes and sweet smile that was signature to Steve Rogers, and the coercion and persuasion skills signature to Natasha Romanoff, saying no to him when he had his heart and mind set on something became pretty damn hard. It wasn’t that Steve and Natasha never said no to James when they needed to, because they did. Natasha was an expert at putting her foot down; had been ever since Clint had become her best friend. And Steve was a master at telling James no without totally souring his mood, but also without giving him empty promises. They could tell their son no just fine. It was just that they knew going to the fair was not only something he _really_ wanted, but also something James would totally love. So, with that, Steve and Natasha accepted the tickets from Tony, and now...well.

Now, they were standing with James between them, either of his hands clasped tightly in theirs, staring at and smelling like cows.

“Dad! Dad, look at that one!” As the cow in question slowly and unenthusiastically chewed the bundle of hay it had scooped up into its mouth, James began to jump excitedly, but quickly stopped once he remembered how his mother had softly told him to “Jamie, honey, stop” the last three times he had done so. Instead, he swung his hand where it was still conjoined with Steve’s in the direction of the cow, despite the fact that his father was already looking at it and nodding his head interestedly.

“I see him, buddy. That’s a pretty one, huh?”

James nodded fervently. “I’m gonna name him Spot, because of that big one over his eye.” Natasha smiled at that. Ever since they had first entered the animal section of the fair ten minutes ago, James had quickly fallen into the habit of naming all of ones he liked. So far, he’d named a rooster Egghead (despite Steve telling him that it was the hens who laid the eggs soon after), a pig Clint, after his favorite uncle (Natasha had laughed at that one), and a goat Derek. The two parents had no idea where their son had gotten the last name from, but James seemed pretty content with it nonetheless. He was also apparently content with Spot, because he was now dragging his parents further along the stalls, beaming up at each animal and greeting them as if they could understand him. James didn’t seem to care. Over their son’s little blond head, Steve raised his eyebrows and cast Natasha an amused grin before James was calling him to look at another cow, this one with a calf lying right beside her.

“Is that her baby?”

“Sure is. But a baby cow is called a calf,” Steve informed, briefly glancing down at his son to find him watching the calf attentively.

His next question was directed at Natasha. “What’s a baby human called?”

“Just a baby, baby,” she smiled, knowing what the title did to him. As expected, James’ nose wrinkled and his brow furrowed in refusal ( _I'm not a baby_ , he'd repeatedly argued in the past). She laughed, bending down to kiss him on the forehead, and his frown quickly dispersed in a cheeky smile. “You hungry yet, Jamie?”

James shook his head, too intent on looking at the animals for the rest of their time at the fair (and probably even longer, but Natasha didn’t want to think about how he was going to react when they told him it was time to go home). “James, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry!”

Steve crouched so that he was at eye level with his son. Frankly, Natasha didn’t like the mischievous glint he got in his eye as he did so, but she didn’t say anything. Steve dropped his voice in a playful whisper. “Not even for cotton candy?”

James faltered where he was trying to focus all of his attention on a nearby piglet. Natasha knew Steve got him, but still, she let her husband do the talking. “They’ve got all kinds of flavors, bud. Raspberry. Strawberry. Blueberry.” His voice went even lower, and he leaned in so he could bump his arm against James’. “Even watermelon.”

Finally, James turned to give his mother a pleading look. Natasha gave him a pointed one right back. “You can have the biggest bag of cotton candy they have for sale, James, but you’ve got to eat some real food first.”

“Cotton candy _is_ real—”

“James,” Steve interrupted, giving him a stern look.

James sighed, his small shoulders sagging humorously. Natasha pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Fine,” he sighed, before turning his green eyes on to the calf. “Bye, baby. My dad says you’re called a calf, but isn’t that part of a leg? You’re a baby.”

This time both Steve and Natasha did laugh, right before walking their son out of the animal stalls and back onto the main path coursing through the fairgrounds. They had come on a weekday, so it wasn’t as busy as it could have been, but there was still a fair amount of people here nonetheless. Natasha gripped James’ hand tighter, and Steve bent his head lower. Another reason why the two of them weren’t initially so excited to take their son to the fair was because of their status. By all terms, Steve was a celebrity. Natasha was well-known enough, but less so than her husband, meaning she really didn’t have to go as all-out as Steve did when it came to inconspicuous clothing. While she was donned in a simple black V-neck and pair of white shorts, and James in a rugby polo and pair of his own cargo shorts, Steve was wearing a ball cap pulled low to cover his eyes (it was sunny out, too, so it wasn’t _that_ suspicious, but they’d have to leave before sundown, for sure), a long-sleeved tee, and a pair of jeans. While Steve Rogers was usually known for his uniform or a button-down and pair of tight khakis, he currently looked like he was anything _but_ Steve Rogers. Not the pristine, all-American Captain. Just a man enjoying the local fair with his wife and son, which he was. Natasha could see it on his face. He was having a great time. And, to be honest, she was too. Maybe she wouldn’t have enjoyed the fair so much five years ago, but now that she could see how blatantly _happy_ it was making her two favorite boys, the appeal was fairly obvious.

Frankly, she loved it.

After purchasing (and watching James _demolish_ ) a few corndogs for the each of them, Steve and Natasha took their son to buy cotton candy as promised. There was an abundance of flavors, way more than Steve had listed in order to initially goad James into eating, and eventually he settled on blue raspberry. As the family walked, he and Steve picked at the finely spun sugar, and Natasha resisted the urge to chastise James for getting all sticky. He was having too much fun, and she wasn’t about to ruin it (just as long as that stickiness didn’t get on _her_ , she was fine). Steve, who had bits of sticky blue candy clinging to the skin around his mouth, grinned mischievously at Natasha and, his hand still clutched around James’, stooped forward in an attempt to kiss her. Normally, the small squeal she let out as she ducked away would have embarrassed her, but instead she laughed as James giggled around of a mouthful of melting candy and Steve grinned into a wet napkin as he cleaned his face off, right before bending down to do the same to James. When he was done, Natasha pulled him in for a real kiss, slanting her lips over Steve’s in a way that wasn’t exactly chaste but not exactly a full-on, inappropriate PDA display, either. She bent down to kiss James on the forehead, after, but he was too distracted by a nearby booth to make a face.

“What’re you looking at, bud?” Steve asked, planting his large hand on top of James’ blond head and slightly mussing his hair. James didn’t answer, and his parents followed his gaze to a large booth set up across from them, one decorated with many paintings of different animals, objects, and sceneries. It wasn’t hard to guess what this booth was. “Face painting?”

Steve cast his gaze to Natasha in a silent way of asking if it was alright. James, though, was way too observant for his age, and turned his eyes up to his mother, his green orbs shining. “ _Please_ , mom? Can I?”

Natasha smiled down at him. “I don’t see any harm in it.”

James cheered and jumped up, releasing Natasha’s hand in favor of gripping his father’s forearm with both of his own tiny ones. “Come on,” James said, before shooting Natasha a sly look over his shoulder. “Mom, stay here. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Alright, then,” Natasha chuckled, raising her hands at her sides when James just gave her a look that said,  _I’m serious, don’t move_. He may have looked like his father, but James acted so much like her sometimes that it was almost frightening. “I won’t move. Promise.”

James held out his finger. “Pinky promise?”

Hooking her finger with his, Natasha winked. “Pinky promise. Now go, your Dad’s waiting!”

“Let’s go, buddy. Do I get to know what you’re gonna get, or do I have to wait until after too?”

As the two walked off, Natasha watched as James leaned up (and Steve bent down to accommodate him) to whisper something in father’s ear. After, James shot another look over his shoulder to check if Natasha had heard, despite the fact that they were at least ten feet away. Steve had a habit of telling their son that Natasha had eyes and ears everywhere, and, as a child, James took it quite literally.  To be honest, it was actually kind of hilarious, especially when he did things like he was now, which was bringing two of his fingers up to his eyes and pointing them back at Natasha as if to say, _I’m watching you, mom_.

Natasha laughed again before Steve and James disappeared into the booth, sitting at a table where she could see her husband fine but James was just out of sight. They’d probably done that on purpose. Steve knew that, sometimes, Natasha was too curious for her own good, especially when it came to James. She could blame it on the spy in her, but most of it really had to do with maternal instinct (Christ, even _that_ sounded ridiculous. Black Widow having maternal instincts?). Sitting down on a nearby bench, Natasha waited (and tried not to crane her head to watch) as a woman with a flower painted on her temple began to work on James. At one point, she could see James’ tiny arm point back to where Natasha was sitting, and the woman glanced at her with a smile. Steve was smirking, too. They were talking about her. What was going on?

Ten minutes later, Steve’s large form exited the booth and Natasha stood up as he and their son approached. James had his hand clasped in Steve’s, but the way they were walking was awkward as James was hiding behind his father’s leg in an attempt to keep his surprise secret for a little longer. Natasha smiled at the both of them, winking at Steve before crouching down and tilting her head to the side at James’ blond waves poking out from behind her husband’s jean-clad thigh.

“You ready, mom?”

“I’m ready.”

“And you’re _sure_ you didn’t already look, right? Because you pinky promised.”

Natasha pursed her lips to keep from laughing. “I always keep my pinky promises, you know that,” she said. “Now come on, show me. I’ve been waiting. And I’m excited to see what you got, Jamie.”

Slowly, almost tentatively, James stepped out from behind his father. Natasha's heart immediately swelled at the sight. Completely painted over James’ features was a giant black spider, a tiny red hourglass painted over his equally tiny nose, and he was obviously trying to keep from grinning excitedly so that Natasha could get a good look at what he picked out. She glanced up at Steve in question, who simply raised his hands at his sides. The silent communication was all she needed. _Don’t look at me. This was all his idea._

Sniffing (she was _not_ going to cry), Natasha cupped James’ elbow in her hand and squeezed lightly considering she couldn’t kiss him on the face instead. “Oh, baby,” she started, smiling broadly.

“Do you like it, mom?”

She sniffed again, ignoring the amused grin Steve was giving her. Her baby got this for _her_. If she was getting emotional about it, she didn’t care what anyone else thought. “I love it. You picked it out for me?”

James nodded, but before he could say anything, Steve began to speak. “He told the woman working the booth that I liked to draw and made pictures for you all the time. He also told her that, because he’s, and I quote, not the best drawer, he wanted to get your favorite insect painted on his face instead.” Steve winked at her. A Black Widow was, of course, _not_ her favorite insect, but James had heard her (and his father and uncles) mentioning the spider with Natasha’s name more than enough times to draw the conclusion that he did. She supposed it was better than figuring out that _she_ was the Black Widow. He was much too young to know that information now, and they’d cross that bridge later. For now, she could enjoy her son’s adorable innocence.

“It’s perfect, Jamie,” Natasha smiled, pushing her son’s blond waves away from his face. “And you’re a _great_ drawer. You get that from your dad.”

Even under all that black paint, she could see James blush. “I’m happy you love it.”

Natasha leaned up to kiss the top of James’ head one last time before getting back on her feet. Steve raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to get a good look at James’ face. “Alright, bud, it’s starting to get dark. How about we call it a day?”

The two parents braced themselves for a tantrum, but instead they got a small yawn and an equally small nod. “Okay, dad.”

Before he forgot that he had his face painted and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Steve bent down and scooped James up in his arms, tucking him against his side before reaching down and entwining his fingers with Natasha’s. She yawned, too, then kissed him on the cheek and leaned her head against his broad shoulder as they walked, their hands clasped firmly between them.

“See you later, fair,” James sleepily grumbled, and Natasha and Steve exchanged glances and content grins as their son waved goodbye to the scene behind them.

* * *

Later that night, long after she had dressed James into his pajamas and tucked him in for the night, Natasha stood in front of her bathroom’s mirror and got ready for bed herself. She was just finishing up brushing her teeth when she felt an arm snake around her waist, and when she looked up at her reflection, Steve was already smiling and standing behind her, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.

“I had fun today,” he grumbled into her skin, sounding exhausted but seemingly determined in his actions nonetheless.

“Me too,” she agreed. “I never knew what I was missing out on until now.”

“Maybe we owe Stark a thank you,” he said, straight-faced, though it cracked in an amused smile once he saw Natasha’s expression in the mirror. “Fine. It’ll be our little secret.”

“Doubt it. James’ll spill everything tomorrow.” She smirked as Steve slid one side of her robe over her shoulder to plant a kiss on the skin there. “He gets that from you.”

“What? How talkative he is?”

“No, how excited he gets.”

Steve hummed into her skin. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“Mm, definitely not,” Natasha turned in her husband’s arms, draping her arms over his shoulders. He ducked down to catch her lips between his. She laughed against his mouth, but didn’t fight his efforts. “Someone’s persistent.”

“Like I said, I had a good day. Why not have a good night?”

Natasha smiled, gasping a little as Steve nibbled on her lower lip. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“No,” he chuckled, turning the two of them toward the bedroom, his hands going to the belt securing Natasha's robe closed. “No, you can’t.”


End file.
